The Xenonaut Project
by Captain Fumbles
Summary: The brave men and women of the Xenonaut Project defend the earth from alien invasion in the year 1979. A story based on a playthrough of the game "Xenonauts" as told through the eyes of dedicated reporter James Taylor and the ground troops who risk their lives fighting the alien menace.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE: THE XENONAUT PROJECT

* * *

The year was 1958 when humanity made first contact with extraterrestrial lifeforms. NATO forces in the Icelandic and North Atlantic regions picked up an unknown flight signal headed towards North America from the east, prompting a DEFCON 1 response in less than ten minutes. The object was headed towards an empty field in Ohio; its trajectory towards a single non-vital area likely being the only thing that kept America from launching its weapons at the USSR in preemptive retaliation. NORAD put all of its efforts into tracking precisely where the object had been launched from and what it was when the signal immediately jackknifed towards Iceland- a physical impossibility for a rocket.

Fighter jets were scrambled all over the eastern seaboard. Military command assumed the signal to be a soviet jet of some sort as both Ohio and Iceland were under NATO protection, and launched aircraft to investigate. A mixed-wing squadron from the Eglin Air Force Base approached the aircraft eighty miles off the coast of Iceland. The craft was shaped like a yellow bullet the size of a US Battleship and its speed easily rivaled the fastest jet planes of the era. Attempts were made to hail the craft with every method from radio frequencies to crude Morse code, but the craft remained unresponsive to all communications. When F-8s approached the craft from the sides, the unidentified craft opened fire.

Bursts of light incinerated aircraft before the pilots could even respond. Eyewitness reports of the lone surviving craft likened the damage done to the tail of the jet to that of an angle grinder; the top half of the tail was simply sliced clean off. Command stations scrambled for an answer, and it came in the form of nuclear warheads. Six Thor warheads were rearmed for air burst and launched over Iceland to disable the hostile craft. Nuclear explosions lit up the Atlantic sky, damaging the crafts navigation systems and forcing it to land relatively intact. It wasn't long before Eisenhower and Khrushchev were in direct communications over the unauthorized nuclear explosions so close to soviet territory. Initial scout craft reported the ship to be intact and President Eisenhower asked for Soviet assistance, mostly to prevent nuclear war by turning the operation into an act of cooperation, and admitted all details of the skirmish to the General Secretary.

The "Iceland Incident", led by Lt. General Thomas Palmerston and Commander Mikhail Kirov, was a joint NATO-Soviet operation involving the 95th Airborne and the 202nd Infantry with half a dozen Patton tanks supported by lead elements of the Soviet Fourth Army with a small collection of Soviet T-54s. The UFO had crash landed with heavy damage but the frame was entirely intact. The crash sight had charred the surrounding area black, burning the nearby trees and scorching the earth. NATO-Soviet forces encircled the UFO and approached, receiving orders from dual command stations to breach the UFO and capture any survivors. As ground forces approached the one kilometer mark they were engaged by hulking robotic monstrosities wielding massive weapons that shot beams of energy or concentrated bolts of superheated light. Tanks and men alike were devestated by the weapons fire and it took the combined ground forces a half hour of concentrated tank and heavy machinegun fire to down the man-shaped metal behemoths. Reports of surviving soldiers suggest the machines were able to survive direct hits from Patton shells, but concentrated T-54 fire combined with their robotic movement patterns and lack of taking cover brought the metal creatures down.

Surviving forces approached the UFO and were met with a second, much more coordinated, wave of defense. Creatures described as having pallid gray skin and bulbous black eyes emerged from the craft and opened fire; using defensive tactics, nearly impenetrable body-armor, and militaristic skill to hold off the advancing forces for hours of extended fighting. Soldiers who weren't sliced apart at the bone or had whole limbs seared off reportedly collapsed on the field in fits of paranoia and panic, some even turning their firearms on themselves in fits of what scientists assume to be the psychological pressure of coming face to face with a superior alien lifeform. The gray-skinned aliens displayed cunning and tactics equal and possibly superior to those of their human counterparts, but were eventually forced back into the UFO vessel to avoid combined mortar and tank fire on their positions.

It was at this point that humanity came face to face with its second form of extraterrestrial life. NATO-Soviet forces were ambushed by a second type of alien life as they approached the craft. The creatures, reportedly reptillian and taller and broader than even the strongest soviet soldier, used close-quarters tactics and ambush maneuvers; destroying the remaining Tanks and devastating squads of personnel. Reports by survivors pulled away from the fighting relay that the beasts would take to playing dead; being struck by what appeared to be a lethal wound and laying dead on the ground for a few moments before rising back up relatively unharmed and continuing to fight. Their armored scales withstood most forms of conventional weaponry and they fought with brutal savagery, some soldiers were even reportedly torn apart by one of the creatures bare hands after its strange alien weapon ran out of ammunition.

The fighting had begun in the morning and dragged on til the afternoon. The reptilian and humanoid aliens were pushed back into their craft and a small group of combined NATO-Soviet soldiers assaulted the craft from within. No one knows what happened when soldiers breached the UFO- its power core detonated and vaporized human and alien forces alike for a ten kilometer radius. Only the command staff and those wounded in the fight and dragged away from the fighting survived humanities first contact with the aliens, but the United States and Soviet Russia vowed that they would be ready for the next. The incident was hushed up; official records showed that the Soviets had attempted to invade Iceland and were stopped by Nuclear Weapons, practically ending the Cold War on the spot and entering a new era of Soviet-American cooperation.

The Xenonaut Project was created and implemented within months. Hundreds of the best troops from around the world were spread around dozens of underground bunkers with one mission; protect the world from the alien threat. Aircraft were refitted with materials proven resistant to alien weaponry, soldiers were drilled night and day in anti-alien combat tactics, the most powerful radar technology was employed to track and find any UFOs that might enter the Earths atmosphere. The Xenonaut Project had been given the best equipment, the highest funding, the greatest soldiers, and every nation of the world pledged their full support to fight the inevitable alien menace, granting the secret defense force access to their airspace and territory with no questions asked.

For twenty years there was no alien contact.

With no unified threat to keep the disparate nations together, the Xenonaut Project was dismantled bit by bit over the course of two decades. First the Soviet and American branches were terminated, then bunker after bunker were shut down to allocate money elsewhere. All but token funding was withdrawn from the project. It was only through shrewd negotiations and more than a bit of clever diplomacy that the Xenonauts were able to retain cutting edge Soviet and American technology in small quantities. The project was entirely forgotten; nothing more than a laughing stock reduced to a name on government funding charts and the butt of many jokes between elected officials.

It was August 1st 1979 before humanity re-encountered the aliens. With the Space Race long over and both Star Trek and Star Wars fresh in cultural memory the appearance of dozens of unidentified saucer spacecraft enthralled the world with hopes of peaceful contact and cooperation. Once the combined airforces of the world began being shot down en masse and blatant alien abductions began taking place, the world panicked. No country could defend their airspace; state of the art F-16 jets were torn apart like tissue paper and the craft shot down nuclear launches with ease. The earth seemed doomed until an aircraft with an unaffiliated call-sign successfully shot down a UFO over the Red Sea. Governments of the world began being contacted by long forgotten phone lines with a simple declaration and request. The Xenonaut Project claimed responsibility for the destruction of the craft and asked for operational authority in all airspaces and nations, monthly funding, and access to the latest in military technology in exchange for one thing; repelling the alien menace from earth.

The Xenonaut Project was officially reinstated on September 1st 1979 with grudging support from all major nations of the world. Only a single active bunker in Saudi Arabia remains active after their mass budget cut, currently staffed by a handful of American researchers, Soviet engineers, three functioning aircraft and less than a dozen trained soldiers from all over the world. Most governments believe they can refit their military to fight off the alien menace and are only willing to grant the Xenonauts support for as long as they delay the aliens, others are supporting the now publicly revealed group solely as a means to keep their populace calm, but no nation can deny the simple truth; the world is being invaded and only the Xenonauts have successfully struck back.

It's now up to the hard working men and women of the Xenonauts to fight back against the alien menace, learn why they've come to earth and what they hope to accomplish, and drive the invasion back or die trying. They're understaffed, underfunded, and hopelessly outnumbered, but they don't plan on letting the Earth be conquered without a fight. They are the Xenonauts.

Next time: Sandtrap

* * *

Authors Note:

This is a story dictating the events of The Xenonaut Project. This story will be written off of an evolving save file of a moderately-modded version of the game 'Xenonauts' by Goldhawk Interactive. The way this works is that I'll be playing the save file a mission or so ahead of the story and transcribing the events as they happen. Even I won't know if the Xenonauts are ultimately doomed to failure or whether they'll gloriously succeed in thwarting the alien menace, and each individual soldier will have their own fate decided by the whims of the games AI and my own skills or incompetence as a commander.

For those curious I'm using the following mods to enhance the storytelling potential of the game: Khall's More Portraits, Skitso's Ultimate Megamix Map Pack 2000, kabill's Armoured Assault Vehicle Rebalance, kabill's Hold the Line Psionics and Morale mod, Skitso's Sleek AI Turn mod, Jsleezy's Real Armors mod, The Lore+ project, and of course the Xenonauts Community Edition mod. I have a few other 'quality of life' mods such as a rank changer and a mod that allows extraction from the highest level troop transport. I'm endeavoring to keep the game as close to the original as possible while fixing a few of the issues I had with it; windows being unjumpable, vehicles not getting machineguns, psionics being undefendable, and other such issues.

To those of you who play Xenonauts you'll likely see a few differences pop up in my story, but the main changes are just to where I'll be fighting the aliens, how my soldiers will be reacting to morale and psionic attacks, and minor differences in vehicle combat and small tweaks made by the community edition mod. I highly encourage you to browse the Goldhawk Interactive forums for all your game modification needs.

Feedback is highly welcome as this is my first attempt at such a story.


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE: SANDTRAP

* * *

A lone truck drove across the desert, engine humming and frame shaking with every dip and crack. Its metal frame reflected the light of the crescent moon; a sight only the driver of the vehicle and not the passenger would be able to enjoy. A man sat in the back of the truck amidst boxes of cargo, hands nervously running over a leather-bound journal as he uncomfortably dipped and shook from the motions of the vehicle. He knew from the flight that he was in Saudi Arabia, but his driver had ensured his compass had been taken from him so he wouldn't be able to tell where in the country he was being driven. James couldn't help but start to wonder if he really was about to break the story of a lifetime or if this had all been an elaborate method of making sure he'd never write another story like Mỹ Lai ever again.

The call had woken him up just before midnight the night before. He had fallen asleep at the desk of his hotel room in Italy, having been there chasing what turned out to be false stories of Italian fighter jets downing one of the UFOs that had been terrorizing the world for nearly a month now. The voice on the end of the line asked him if he wanted to be the official reporter of the Xenonaut Project. He didn't know what that was, and the voice on the phone told him to turn on his television. For the next ten minute Mr. Taylor sat in awe and confusion as channel after channel were breaking the same story; one of the UFOs had been destroyed over the Red Sea and a group calling themselves the Xenonauts were claiming responsibility. He had jumped at the idea. Within an hour he was aboard a privately booked flight to Saudi Arabia with all the tapes and notepads he could carry.

Everything electronic had been confiscated on the plane. He was told the project couldn't risk him having any tracking devices or bugs, and he'd be provided tape recorders and more tapes than he could ever use when they made it to 'the base.' That had worried him, but the scoop was just too good. Alien life was invading the planet and he had the chance to report on who downed the UFO and what their goals were. He had to risk it. James was shaken as the truck began to drive at a decline, his body and some of the crates of equipment shifting towards the front of the truck. He was being taken underground, that much he could tell. The driver had been careful to take enough turns during the trip that James lost track of what direction they were headed, and his compass had been taken to further make sure the reporter didn't know, but he could at least tell they were headed underground.

The truck came to a stop. James worried that he was in over his head. His fears weren't calmed when a fist pounded on the back of the trucks frame and the gruff voice of his driver called out "We're here." Clutching his journal tighter, James stood up and made his way to the back of the truck. "If they wanted you dead they'd have killed you already." he thought to himself, putting on his bravest face and stepping out of the vehicle. His eyes stung from the harshness of overhead fluorescent lighting when he left the truck, weakened from hours of riding in darkness. By the time they adjusted he was being approached. A man in a military dress suit, flanked by a man and a woman in soft blue fatigues, came up to him. Even with his eyes slowly correcting themselves James noted the heavy weight of pistols strapped to the two guards belts.

"Welcome to Xenonaut Headquarters, Mr. Taylor." The man said. James' eyes adjusted to the overbearing light and he realized he was in a very large concrete structure. The smell of fuel wafted through the air, and he could now see busy mechanics running to and fro. Support staff were occupied fueling a large black aircraft that more than passingly resembled an F-16 but the wing shape and weaponry were completely off, and the tail seemed to be reinforced. "Admiring the Condor, I see. It's our personal upgrade to the Fighting Falcon. The metal's more resistant to alien fire and we've cut the weapon loadout to fit it with more armor and fuel. The girl flies further, fights longer, and shouldn't get sliced in half by one lucky shot." The suited man said, noting James' fascination with the aircraft. James hadn't known there had been enough time to even begin upgrading the design, they'd only just been put into service when the aliens began attacking and hadn't stood a chance against the saucer craft.

"Why-" James started to say, but was cut off abruptly by the man. "Questions later. Walk with me." He turned and began walking towards a large shutter door, James following along behind while starting to observe his greeter. He looked important; he held himself with confidence and pride, but James noted some hints of gray among the mans short black hair and bristling mustache. The lines on his face suggested he was at least in his forties, but he couldn't identify what country the dress uniform belonged to. It resembled an American design and the man was speaking English, but there were no flags and the thick ranking stripes on his collar seemed utilitarian in nature. He was no Saudi, that was for sure.

Reaching for the breast pocket of his jacket James produced an inkpen and began fervently writing down the details of what he saw in his journal. The man continued to talk while heading towards the edge of the hangar. "You're now inside the bunker that used to be called X-20." "Nowadays we call it Sandtrap" the guard on the officer's left said. He was a dutch man with shaggy brown hair of similar age to his superior. The three soldiers reached the sliding door and the woman, Caucasian with straight blonde hair in a short tail, tapped a complicated code on the pad of buttons beside the door to open it. James' greeter continued walking, hands crossing at the small of his back. He led the group of four through a long hallway, men in blue work outfits and labcoats passing them in both directions, one carrying a large hunk of burnt acrid-smelling metal.

"I'm The Commander." The well-dressed officer said. "Commander-?" James asked. "Just 'The Commander'." came his response. The Commander continued to talk, leading them towards another shutter door, this one with far more bolts and locks than the door at the end of the hangar. "My name isn't important. What is important is that I'm the strategic leader of this bunker, and by extension, the entire Xenonaut Project."

The female soldier opened the door, revealing a room that reminded James of all the pictures he'd ever seen of NASA Mission Control. Hundreds of large monitors and screens flooded his view, the chatter of dozens of technicians filled his ears. Standing at large stations, a room full of men and women tracked information and projected it onto a massive screen displaying a map of the world. The Commander continued to talk. "We're the only thing standing between Earth and the Alien Invasion. Do you see that circle over Saudi Arabia?" He asked, pointing to the map on the back of the room. A circle of blue was displayed around the Middle East, barely reaching half of North and South Africa. It covered a small portion of the region labeled Indochina, the southwestern regions of the Soviet Union, and barely managed to cover Italy and the region around Romania. "That's our operational area."

James felt his jaw drop. The entire western half of the world was completely undefended, major nations line Russia and China weren't covered, and Australia was entirely left on its own. "Just that!? Where are the other bases?" He asked incredulously, shocked by the knowledge that not even a full fifth of the world was being protected. "Twenty years of no contact. We had bunkers all over the world after Iceland, but we're the only one left. We've got ten soldiers, three aircraft, and we're the only ones who can seriously fight back." James couldn't believe it. Ten soldiers? He was expecting an army, the force a government might use, but ten soldiers and three aircraft? He had questions, too many questions, but the one on the front of his mind was what he blurted out in response. "Then why do you want me?" The Commander put a hand on the reporters shoulder and smiled. "Propaganda."

Over the course of the next hour and a half James had been briefed on the basics of the base. A central command station was the heart of the bunker, from there dozens of supercomputers ran night and day collecting reports of alien activity and projecting them on the screen. They had contact with all of the major powers of the world and kept a tally of pledged support. Since the funding governments were only providing marginal support at best, even the difference of a few hundred thousand dollars had to be seriously considered. The base was home to the largest radar array that James had ever seen in his life, and according to The Commander a second one was already in construction, alongside more hangars and a third F-17 Condor.

He'd been told that the Xenonauts needed someone who would be able to put out good press; play up their victories and make public support keep the funding nations providing them the money they needed to fight against the aliens. He was told that he'd be allowed exclusive on-site interviews and would be allowed to publish anything he wanted as long as his writings were vetted for information that would be dangerous to the project. He wouldn't be able to tell the world where the Xenonaut base was, he wasn't to reveal the names of personnel and soldiers, and he had to make sure he never interrupted or interfered with research, production, or other vital business on the base. It was the story of a lifetime and James accepted.

James' bunk in the communal living quarters was identical to every other one in the barracks; a comfortable twin bunk bed with a large footlocker at the end. Large locker-room showers and a combination dining hall and recreational room were attached to the barracks, and his bed was pushed in a far corner to make sure he wouldn't keep vital staff awake with his recording. James' footlocker contained all of the non-electronic equipment that had been confiscated from him on the flight, as well as a brand new cassette tape recorder and enough tapes to last him a whole year. The supply manager, a new yorker with slicked back blonde hair and a cigarette in his mouth, came by to let him know that if there was anything he needed to do his job better all he had to do was come and ask him. James was appreciative and mentioned he could use a lamp for late-night writing, and the supply manager head off to see what he could do. James was about to get started on his first recording when he was interrupted by a blue alarm light that began spinning in the barracks. Soldiers jumped to their feet before the voice on the intercom even spoke up, throwing their fatigues on as it called out "UFO contact engaged. Active soldiers report to transport Nostromo." James grabbed his journal, slapped a fresh tape in the recorder, and bolted for the command center.

Next time: Operation Rising Sun


	3. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO: OPERATION SUNRISE PART ONE

* * *

Eight proud soldiers stood side by side, their striking blue combat fatigues cutting a distinct and inspirational image against the dull alloy frame of a modified Chinook helicopter. Gleaming steel helmets adorned their heads and each was clutching a sleek black-framed firearm, except for one jolly-looking round man with a very heavy machine gun. The Commander stood in front of his soldiers, five male three female, while James awkwardly clutched the handle of his tape recorder in his teeth and hastily scribbled details in his journal.

"At o-four hundred hours command received contact with what has been classified as UFO 001 over central Saudi Arabia" The Commander said, talking over the sound of busy mechanics hauling equipment onto the re purposed aircraft. "S-1 Falcon engaged and ambushed over the small Saudi village of Al-Rasan. Falcon attacked the saucer craft from behind and brought it down with torpedo and auto-cannon fire." One of the soldiers nudged the woman on her right with her elbow, grinning confidently.

"As Falcon returned to base, command detected UFO 002 over western Saudi skies. S-2 Enterprise launched with identical results to Falcon." The Commander stated. "There are now two crashed alien aircraft, one identified to be near a minor population center. You're being deployed to Al-Rasan at the break of dawn to search the UFO, terminate any surviving xenoterrestrial forces and recover as many salvageable artifacts and materials from the downed craft as possible. As this is the first real combat most of you have seen, I'll be briefing you personally on your equipment and what we expect of you."

A stern eyed American man looked down at the rifle in his hands with a look of mixed disdain and comfort. James had seen that look a hundred times before in his reports and pegged the man as a young veteran of Vietnam. He made a note to interview him as soon as possible but perked back at attention when The Commander grabbed a shaggy-haired German's backpack.

"In your combat packs you will find the equipment you have chosen and been assigned to carry into engagements. The packs include weapon slings, ammunition pouches, a large belt with quick-retrieve straps and a central pocket for carrying extra supplies." Putting the pack down but grabbing a large brick of plastic explosives from inside, The Commander spoke directly to the shaggy-haired thirty-something soldier it belonged to. "Corporal Richter, you've been assigned as a close combat specialist. On top of your shotgun-" James noted the design as being similar to the mossbergs used by American soldiers. "-you have been given two bricks of plastic explosives and spare grenades for the rest of the squad in case of an extended mission. These explosives will destroy nearly any environmental blockade but their use on alien materials is unknown. You've already been trained on standard breaching protocol and I trust you'll put these to good use."

Frank Richter saluted and The Commander went to the next person in line, the American man with a twenty-yard stare. "Corporal Cook, you're one of our only veteran combat units. Your experience fighting the Viet Cong will be vital, as will your SEAL training. You're in charge of the rifle team. You're carrying a much lighter pack than you're probably used to, this is a temporary skirmish and we've removed all unnecessary components of the standard soldiers combat gear for improved mobility." The ex-SEAL gave a nod in response and The Commander went to the next soldier, an American woman with tanned skin and a high precision marksman rifle.

"You're the unit's long-range force multiplier, Corporal Cooper. Find clear line of sight and put that rifle of yours to good use. You've been issued a high caliber handgun for situations where your rifle is inappropriate, a small but diverse array of grenades, and a spare rocket for Corporal Falk's rocket launcher."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" The woman nervously asked.

"Granted."

"Well, aint carrying a rocket in my pack dangerous, sir? It could explode." She said.

"Negative. We know the aliens use a form of heat or energy weapons so we've modified the rockets to explode only after being primed and only after striking a solid surface. The amount of force needed to set the rocket off in your pack would already be lethal. The standard frag grenades are more of a risk to carry than these rockets, and you've all been trained on explosives safety." He answered, causing a look of relief to wash over the sniper's face. Handing Corporal Cooper her pack, The Commander addressed the Russian woman next to her.

"Corporal Chekova, you're armed with a pack identical to Corporal Richter's with the addition of a second spare rocket for Falk's launcher. Don't make this a contest, Klara. You're a good soldier with an excellent record, but I don't want to see any recklessness out there."

"Da, Kommandir." Her face lit up with a cocky grin as she saluted him. The Commander next went to the healthy German soldier hefting the oversized machinegun. His face was round and his expression practically beaming. "Corporal Neumann, due to the weight and size of your weapon and the ammunition it takes to fire it you'll be going into battle with it, a pair of grenades, a pistol similar to Corporal Coopers, and two boxes of ammunition to be used by your light machinegun. Your job will be suppression and mass fire. Be very careful of friendly fire and if you run out of grenades link up with Corporal Richter, he's carrying spares specifically so you won't be weighed down." Neumann nodded and gave his weapon a pat. A small bulbous alien head had been lovingly carved into the side of the gun with plenty of room alongside it.

The Commander moved next to a British man holding a large solid metal riot shield with a small hole in the front for seeing through. The shield, large enough to protect everything from his helmet to his boots, had the same black metal alloy adorning the helicopter behind them. "Sergeant Mason, your experience parachuting into Northern Ireland to confront IRA forces make you the perfect candidate to field-test our combat shields."

Sergeant Mason nodded, some bits of his wild brown hair poking out from under the steel helmet.

"The shield, according to laboratory tests, should withstand one or two direct hits from energy weapons fire. This will be the first time its been tested in the field. Due to the size and weight you'll only be able to carry a pistol alongside it, but your belt has been given a wide array of grenades. You'll be playing the most vital role in keeping the other soldiers alive, as you've got the only thing we think can currently stand up to energy weapon fire. Keep it facing your enemies, keep eyes on your flank, and stay cool under fire." The Commander gave Sergeant Mason a solemn nod. It was a dangerous job, but someone had to fill that role.

"Corporals Falk and Esposita-" An older Swedish man with a bristling blond mustache and a very young Italian woman stood at attention. "-you're both members of the rifle team under Corporal Cook's leadership. Both of you are outfitted with our standard modification of the AR-15. You three will be the backbone of our ground force, able to operate up close with burst fire and medium range with aimed shots. Both of you have been given a second primary weapon for use in exactly opposite situations."

The Swede grinned from behind his mustache, hand resting on the rocket launcher hanging from his backpack.

"Corporal Valk, you've been issued with the squads one and only one rocket-propelled grenade launcher and three rockets, with spares dispersed among your squad. Do not, I repeat, do not treat this as your primary weapon. It is to be used only in appropriate situations. We do not want to risk the destruction of any valuable alien artifacts." The Commander sternly said, then turning his eyes to the young Italian woman. "Corporal Esposito, you have been issues a spare shotgun for close-quarters combat. Gauge the situation appropriately and you'll be as valuable as two soldiers."

Corporal Esposito nodded and gave her commander a salute.

The Commander withdrew a satchel from Esposito's bag. The size of a messenger bag, the satchel bore a large red cross and jangled with the sound of cans and metal tins inside.

"The aliens use a form of heat-based weaponry. We have yet to develop anything lighter than the combat shield to protect against it, but glancing blows are survivable if treated immediately. To this effect you've all, save for Corporals Valk and Neumann due to the weight of their combat equipment, been issued bags filled with antiseptics, burn ointments and standard medkits for shrapnel or other injuries. For glancing blows the aerosol spray can be applied to take the pain of a wound away and keep a soldier in fighting shape, for more direct wounds a large amount of burn ointment and bandages have been provided. We can't afford space on the dropship to send you into battle with a dedicated medic, so you're all responsible for keeping each other alive out in the field."

He put the medical bag back inside Esposito's pack and waited for the soldiers to fully gear up, giving them their final orders.

"Scour the UFO, destroy any surviving alien contacts, and recover any and all xenoterrestial artifacts and weaponry. This mission has been designated Operation Sunrise. Dropship Nostromo will take you to the mission site and escort you back to the base after the operation. If all goes well, you'll be sent out again to deal with the second downed UFO. This is our first chance to fight back against the aliens on our own terms. Prove to the world that we can win this." The Commander gave his troops a salute and left.

Sergeant Mason strapped his shield on and adjusted his steel combat helmet. "You heard the man, lads. Let's go make history."

Next time: Overwhelming force.

* * *

AN: I'm trying some new stuff with dialogue and think it's going well. The next mission will be the first Ground Combat mission. Hopefully now that introductions are nearly out of the way it should be a steady order of one or two base chapters and then one or two combat chapters (depending on the length of the mission) with shorter unimportant combats being summarized and skipped over. I think those of you who play Xenonauts might immediately notice a few things the mods added kicking, or should I say jumping, into effect next time.


	4. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE: OPERATION SUNRISE PART TWO

* * *

Sunlight gently rose over wind worn adobe walls and softly swaying date trees, glinting in the sky off of dark metal plating. A large helicopter swept through the air on twin rotors, eight stoic soldiers strapped inside. Richter, Cooper, Chekova, Falk, Neumann, Cook, Esposito, Mason. Names born upon their uniforms next to sewn rank insignias; solid red patches all bearing one vertical white line, save for the second line denoting Sergeant Mason's superior rank.

"We're coming in hot, boys and girls. You can see the light show from all the way up here!"

The speakers awoke with a voice; the pilot's. Ripley he was called, not by his name but by the call sign he'd taken up on piloting the C-1 Nostromo. The soldiers he carried began to move. Belts were undone, weapons grabbed and readied. Large flashes of blue light could be seen shooting past the window, the helicopter pitching to the left to avoid an errant blast of light aimed in its direction.

"Play nice with the neighbors, kids!"

His radio cut out, the helicopter descending rapidly. Already the sound of Arabic screams and gunfire filled the air, followed by the heavy thud of touchdown. Daylight flooded in as the Chinook helicopter's rear hatch and flanking side doors opened simultaneously. Humanities first true ground battle with alien lifeforms had begun.

Sergeant James Mason sprinted for the Nostromo's back hatch with pistol in hand and dull black shield held in front of him. "Chekova, on me!" he called, scanning the battlefield through his shields view-port. The Nostromo had set down among the southern outskirts of Al-Rasan; right on the edge of a tight cluster of adobe buildings comprising a small date tree farm. The densely packed farm compound was made of multiple mudbrick houses connected to a single two-story central building. The farm was surrounded by a series of disjointed walls protecting it from wild animals and the elements. James darted for the only thing nearby that counted as any sort of cover from the compound; a large date tree nestled between a pair of desert rocks and a shoddy wooden fence.

Xenonaut soldiers flooded out of the transport. Smoke grenades covered their exit and the troops formed quickly into two-men squads. Alda Esposito charged ahead, leaving The Nostromo from its side exit,being followed by Coporal Cook. She planted herself against a treeline on the left flank of the complex, scouting ahead for her squad. She angled towards an outer wall adorned with a large chest-high window. Something moved. From behind her Corporal Cook had taken a defensive position among the scattered trees, but she froze. Her eyes widened, hands clutching tighter the rifle. She caught sight of it for a brief moment before her SEAL companion obscured her vision and position with a thrown smoke grenade, hoping the thing they had seen hadn't seen her in return.

"¡Alieno serpente!" She cried out, pressing her back flat against the trees and fumbling her weapon's safety off. A foul hissing sound came from beyond the window and the squad dove for whatever cover it could find. She only caught a glimpse of it, standing taller and broader than any man she knew.

Pushing forward through plumes of smoke, Xenonaut forces took positions to siege the compound. Corporals Falk and Richter charged ahead and hid behind the full cover of a dividing wall, Richters shotgun levied behind his older companion as the bristly swede started loading his rocket launcher with ammunition. Cooper and Neumann hid amongst rock cover on the farms south, machinegun trained on the buildings and rifle providing cover for Esposito and Cook as they moved tree to tree, stealthily advancing.

A creature leaped through the window, sand and dust raining upon it as its massive scaled frame burst bricks from the wall. It stood nearly seven feet tall, was covered head to toe in thick lizard scales and was wearing nothing but a black metal chest plate. Its imposing reptilian head was topped with a flared red mohawk of soft hair, mouth full of spiked teeth opening in an intimidating hiss. It carried a three foot long red and silver rod in both hands, ending with a strange loop and grip held with the three fingers on its right hand.

The device was raised, pointed at Esposito when a shot rang out and the reptilian soldiers head snapped to the side. A gaping exit wound had been blown through its skull, exposing brain. From a distance corporal Cooper clenched her fist in pride, her rifle leveraged on the boulder she hid behind and smoking faintly from its barrel. The reptile stumbled and lurched but its head snapped back, body trembling and bullet hole starting to close. It clutched the device tightly, a large light building up before a second gunshot rang out. Corporal Cook's rifle, steadied against the tree he hid behind, fired for the wound.

It collapsed backwards, body convulsing and going limp on the parched desert ground. Cook took a second shot, ensuring it stayed down.

From over near the date farm itself Sergeant Mason heard a thankful yell in Arabic. A Saudi man exited a storage room wielding an AK-47, calling out to the soldiers that there were more of the beasts inside of his home. He charged for the upper floor, sounds of gunfire immediately being able to be heard. Sergeant Mason tapped Chekova on her shoulder and motioned forward, signaling an advance. The two approached, James' shield raised and Klara walking behind him in a low crouch. They could hear movement from inside, heavy footprints rushing out through the back and upstairs.

"They're inside!" He called out, slamming his shield into the door and knocking it inward off its hinges. His pistol was raised but he saw only a massive reptilian tail as it fled out and to the right behind the building. James pushed inside and scanned the room, he saw signs of two different exit routes. A thick stone staircase leading to the second floor was cracked in three-toed patterns from sheer weight while a closed side door laid in the direction he'd seen the alien sneak out the back.

"It's a trap. Back to back and aim for the stairs, love."

"You are not needing to tell me twice."

Klara pressed her back flush against James. Her shotgun aimed towards the stairs and the open door, just as his shield covered both of them from the direction of the closed one.

Outside of the compound an elderly swede chuckled to himself and dropped to a crouch, rocket launcher aimed directly at the farming compound.

"Hehe, this ought to flush em out. Keep me covered, ya hear?" Falk said, shooting his younger German cohort a quick glance. His mustache wiggled, tongue wetting his lips as he waited for the perfect moment for a rocket-propelled surprise.

On the other side of the battlefield corporals Cook and Esposito took a closer look at the fallen alien laying dead before them. Its weapon lay dormant on the ground, small metallic spheres attached to one side magnetically. Esposito tried picking the device up but it weighed more than her entire kit put together, easily sixty or seventy pounds on its own. 'How do they carry these things?' she thought to herself, letting the device drop to the parched earth and grabbing her rifle once again.

Her studies were cut off.

A scream of pain and death rang out above Mason and Chekova's position, accompanied by a heavy thud and primeval hiss. A second loud bashing sound rang through the battlefield; a brutish alien reptile had forcefully kicked open the wooden door in front of Sergeant Mason. Another of the massive metal tubes was held like a rifle and pointed straight for Chekova's back.

"Get down!"

Mason raised his shield. In a burst of blue light and a hiss of steam the alien's weapon discharged, sending a compact and rapidly spinning hunk of fire and heat directly into Mason's shield. Light and heat dispersed outwards from where it had contacted, the force of the blast stumbling James and leaving a melted dent in his thick riot shield. The reptile raised his rifle a second time.

The heavy echo of buckshot filled with the room. Klara's shotgun was laid around James' shield, using it as both leverage and protection while she opened fire. In the first blast the creature took a shot straight to the chest; the second separating its weapon from its grasp by blowing its right hand clean off. It hissed in pain and turned, panicking and trying to flee. It had only managed to turn around when Sergeant Mason pressed his high caliber hand cannon flat against the base of its neck and fired. It fell, slain instantly.

"I almost had that one, comrade." Klara said, slotting some replacement shells into her weapon.

James hooked his foot on the edge of the door and slammed it shut, glancing at the damage done to his shield. "We can say you finished it if you like."

"Nyet. I'll just kill the next two."

Back outside an alien had been pinned on the second floor. Falk had sent his teammate Richter to go circle around the right side of the building and make his way upstairs while Cook and Esposito were flanking around the left. Neumann and Cooper couldn't get a clear shot; the second floors only window was shuttered tight and too thick to reliably aim through. Every few moments the reptile inside would hiss in dominance and stomp around back and forth, keeping watch on both doors. To assault the top floor would mean someone would be walking into a trap, but the alien couldn't leave or it would be torn apart by focused fire.

Esposito was too scared to get any closer, hiding behind a corner wall and poking her rifle out from the side. Cook, on the other hand, was hardened. Using a moment while the creature was hissing in dominance he charged forward and placed himself flat along the outer wall, right next to one of only two exits to the upper floor. Silently signaling Richter to move around the other side, Cook caught eyes with the squads rocketeer and gave Falk a nod.

"It's comin' down!" The Swede declared, bracing his launcher and opening fire.

An explosion rocked the building, Chekova and Mason scrambled for cover on the ground floor's far end. In place of the shuttered mudbrick window and a large portion of the wall now lay only a smoking black hole. The alien took a knee, ducking and covering from the explosion and the curtain of bullets that immediately followed.

Neumann and Cooper took what shots they could. Neumann's heavy weapon unleashed dozens of bullets at the opening; most striking the wall or missing entirely, but it got the alien to scramble. A high velocity bullet tore through its shoulder, Cooper slapping fresh ammunition into her rifle and re-adjusting her sights. It dove out of the way of the heavy weapons fire but suddenly took a shot to the chest; Cooper following its movements and taking snap shots whenever she could. The building was no longer safe, so it fled; charging to the left and falling right into Corporal Cook's trap.

A three shot automatic burst tore through the aliens chest and head, Cook using the weapons natural recoil to hit vital spots with each round. It collapsed backwards, Cook planting his foot on the alien creatures chest and pointing his rifle down at its skull, firing a second burst and ending its life. His cold eyes glanced into the room, spotting the torn-up carcass of the Saudi combatant decorating the walls and floor. Grisly. Something else caught his glance, though. A saucer craft with two broken tailfins smoked and burned just beyond the farm compound, crashed near a section of juvenile date trees.

"Alien Craft at L-Z's eleven o'clock! Surround and breach!" He called, rushing through the room and taking a knee at the edge of the buildings roof. He only had minimal cover with a waist high wall but the firing angle was perfect, granting him full view of the UFOs massive metal entrance.

The squad converged, circling around the compound or going through it to start approaching the craft. Cook kept watch from the roof, Falk reloaded his weapon and got a line of fire through the poles of a distant wooden fence, Richter joined up with Mason and Chekova and everyone else found clear lines on the large metal door leading into the craft. It was a clean approach across an open field, xenonaut soldiers rapidly advancing towards breaching positions.

Then the door opened from within.

Another reptile leaned out from the craft as the door pneumatically hissed open, hand hanging on the frame and other holding his weapon forward at the approaching trio of soldiers. It opened fire, wildly, spraying three errant bursts of energy. Richter screamed in pain. He'd been hit.

Everyone who had a clear shot opened fire, scaring the reptile and forcing it back inside its craft with bursts of heavy automatic fire and near-misses with rifle and sniper shots. Richter had been hit in the gut, his blue uniform burnt in an open hole and his skin charred black and bleeding. He wailed, diving through an open window nearby, dropping his shotgun on the ground. He fell onto his rear, planting his back flat against the wall and sobbing hysterically as he desperately tried to fish his medical kit from his pack, tossing aside ammunition and grenades to get to his first aid satchel.

"He'll live, keep firing!" Corporal Cook called out. He'd seen men suffer worse and knew that Richter had the means to tend to wounds. His rifle raised and he aimed, waiting for the door to open again. The rest of the squad readied their weapons in anticipating, except for Falk and Neumann.

"Hyeh heh! One open door coming up!" Falk declared, hefting his rocket launcher and firing for the metal frame of the door. The rocket flew forward, heading straight for the UFO door, but his aim had been a little bit too far to the left. The side of his rocket glanced one of the fences wooden poles and knifed downwards, creating a massive rain of dirt and sand as a fiery explosion ripped a crater into the open field. Neumann saw the blast and began to open fire, assuming it had struck its mark. Bullet after bullet flying towards the UFO door and bending, tearing, and wrenching open small bits of metal wherever it hit.

In the haze of confusion and gunfire Klara charged, sticking close to the side of the UFO and preparing an ambush. Mason ran forward with his shield, drawing alien fire every time the door opened and another rapid burst of Xenonaut gunfire happened. Neumann had to stop firing, unable to safely fire around Mason. He and Cooper began to circle around the outer wall of the small village, trying to get a better angle. Cook, Esposito, and Falk kept the aliens pinned inside with rifle fire long enough for Klara to get in place. When the alien opened its protective door again, taking a few wildly inaccurate shots and then ducking back inside, Klara sprang into action.

She whipped around the side of the UFOs frame, lingering only long enough to spot that a second reptile was huddled in the corner and aiming a large handgun-like device in her direction. Her shotgun was planted firmly against the surprised guards head and the trigger fired, leaving nothing recognizable from the shoulder up. The door closed automatically and Klara pressed herself back against the side of the wall out of fire.

"Comrade! Only one remains! We can finish this!" She yelled confidently

"No! Wait for-"

She ignored the Sergeants warning and pumped the action of her shotgun, charging for the door. It opened automatically when she got within a foot of it, Mason running after her. They were too far from the rest of the unit to get backup and suddenly the door closed behind them, sealing them off entirely.

The interior of the craft was cramped, only as large as the single-room Saudi buildings dotting the nearby farm. Large alien machines hummed or sparked, some seeming to still function but others clearly destroyed from the crash. The last surviving alien dove for cover to protect itself from the soldiers but Klara took a shot. The alien jerked its head to the side, winged by shotgun fire and collapsing behind a thrumming power core atop the body of another alien.

"Told you I would kill the next two." Chekova grinned, filling her empty weapon with more shells. She turned her back to the machinery, hefting her shotgun over her shoulder and grinning widely. "First drinks-"

"GET DOWN!"

James threw her aside, a massive flash of blue energy previously aimed for the flat of her back now only searing her side and digging into his shield. The reptile had risen to its feet, buckshot wound regenerating before their very eyes. In its hands was a different alien device, squat and blunt with a widened front end. Its fallen comrades weapon fired again, a second soccer ball sized orb of plasma shooting forward and catching James' shield. Metal twisted and melted, coating his arm. He screamed. The third blast destroyed his shield entirely, forcing burning shrapnel and molten metal deep into his chest, sprawling him motionless to the ground.

Klara's helmet rung against the UFO walls, side burning and nostrils stinging with the acrid scent of plasma and burnt flesh. Everything blurred and a dull ringing filled her ears, soon overwhelmed by the sound of a scream and the pulsing hum of a charging weapon. She had no time to think, only react. Whipping around with her shotgun aimed at her enemies chest, both weapons fired.

The rest of the Xenonaut ground forces charged, arriving too late to offer assistance. The door opened automatically at their presence, rifles raised at the ready. Sergeant Mason lay flat on the ground bleeding, chest charred black and dug deep with half-melted shrapnel. Four aliens lay dead on the ground. Two had died in the crash landing while the other two bore heavy shotgun wounds. Corporal Chekova knelt over the teams fallen leader, desperately providing chest compressions.

The team withdrew. Richter and Mason were gathered onto the dropship while half the squad looted whatever they could. Anything small enough to fit into a backpack or belt was taken whether it looked valuable or not, the strange alien weapons and their glowing round ammunition were loaded onto the ship alongside as much intact alien metal as they could carry. Most interestingly of all was a device Corporal Cook found; a three foot tall cylindrical object, framed in an alloy cage and aglow with flickering green lights. Hooked up to an alien console with thick rubbery cords, the device was fairly easy to unplug and store safely in the helicopter.

By the time salvage efforts were finished it was clear that Sergeant Mason would at least survive the trip back to Sandtrap. Operation Sunrise was a success. Five aliens had been killed in the fighting,Rip wounding Corporals Richter and Chekova and gravely wounded Sergeant Mason.

"Buckle up, kids. We're heading home."

Ripley lifted off.

As the helicopter doors sealed the troops caught sight of what remained of the UFO, burning on Al-Rasan's outskirts. All was silent save for fitful groans coming from their deeply wounded friend. It had become clear that they had won the battle, but it was only the first in a long war; one that they weren't all going to survive.

Next time: Once more into the breach

* * *

Authors Note: Wow! That was a lot of typing. That was the first Ground Mission, and don't worry, not every mission is going to get an entire write-up like that. The important ones will get their own chapter, but once things get rolling most will be retold in a different way I have in mind, with special missions and those where important things happen getting more attention.

To those curious, that Alien jumped through a window because of the Community Mod Pack. It allows both alien and human forces to vault through ground-floor windows, meaning you need to keep better watch on ways your enemy can get in or out of a building. Also poor Sergeant Mason died in that battle, being dropped to 0 HP after his shield was destroyed, but he lucked out on the random chance to just be gravely wounded at the end of a mission. Whenever a soldier dies at 0 HP they have a 50% chance to be resuscitated and just wounded, with the % dropping by each point of health they were below 0. James' shield meant the blow that took him out was weakened enough that he survived, but he'll be in the hospital for about a month now.

Feedback is always welcome, and look forward to the next chapter. Someone has to go back into battle wounded and we might be lucky enough to encounter the other type of early-game alien.


End file.
